Hey, Dad
by Ultimate R-Man
Summary: Three new criminals are on the scene, and they bear an eerie resemblance to our resident halfrobot Titan. How are they connected to Cyborg, and why are they so interested in him? Can the man that Cy wanted to forget provide the answers to these questions?
1. Default Chapter

_**Teen Titans**_

**Hey Dad. It's Been Awhile. **

**Disclaimer**: Teen Titans is the property of Warner Brothers Studios, aired by Cartoon Network and Kid's WB, and inspired by characters in DC Comics. I in no way own them, nor would I wish to. I could not do it the justice that Glen, Sam, and David have done it.

**Plot Summary**: Three new criminals are on the scene, and they bear an eerie resemblance to our resident-half robot Titan. How are they connected to Cyborg, and why are they so interested in him? Can the man that Cy wanted to forget provide the answers to these questions?

**Author's Note**: I began work on this piece looong before Titans East first aired. I believe it was even before Season Two ended (and what an ending!). As always, the big companies were spying on me (just like the Mr. Potato Head Show!), and couldn't resist implementing the little "surprise" I have in store. Seriously, though, the three doppelgangers were my idea, but I'd like to give credit to the T.E. episode for helping me tie up some loose ends in the story so that I could finally publish it! Don't worry, it'll kind of fit in. I guess a really rough estimate places it between Wavelength and Titans East part one. So, without further ado, I give you a fic that's way overdue!

LONG LIVE MAS Y MENOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Prologue (SHORT!) **

The door to the Jump City City Bank exploded outward with a resounding BOOM, flying into the already deserted street and screeching unmercifully across the asphalt. Three hulking cloaked figures darted out, bulging sacks of their ill-gained loot slung over their shoulders. The lead runner chuckled, a dry, cracking voice emanating from the shrouded recesses of the hood of his raincoat.

"Good work!" he called back to his compatriots, "Everything is moving like clockwork!"

The crook reached the street, heavy metal boots sinking into the solid earth beneath as if it were merely sand. His accomplices followed a short distance behind him, their feet similarly digging into the asphalt.

Suddenly, the thief caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision, and screeched to a halt as the offending object struck the ground inches in front him; it was a relatively small object, about six inches in length, but it spun hazardously like a buzz-saw, appearing to be nothing more than a whirling blur of red to the naked eye. It clanked against the blacktop, ricocheted, and returned to the expertly trained, green-gloved hand of the one who had hurled it.

The hand belonged to a young lad, no more than fifteen-years-old, but with a calculating face many years advanced. He was perched, like a bird, on a faded green mini-van, abandoned by its owner when the commotion at the bank had begun. The boy- or perhaps, the man- had a head of heavily gelled spiky black hair that seemed to glisten in the afternoon sunlight. He wore a form-fitting red and green jumpsuit, the insignia "R" sewn onto the left breast. On his feet were a pair of excessively bulky black boots, though the steel toe and sole made them look more formidable than absurd. A thin black mask over his eyes completed his attire, the infamous costume of the Boy Wonder, Robin.

A green falcon swooped down, transforming mid-fall into the elvin form of Beast Boy. The scrawny child landed a bit clumsily to the right of Robin, stumbling for an instant before regaining his balance. Blushing just slightly, he morphed himself into a gorilla in a futile attempt to intimidate his adversaries, and to restore his injured pride.

Next came a stunning female figure, also making a descent from the sky. She had soft skin of orange, a flaming mane of flowing silken hair, and burning emerald eyes. Starfire. She floated gracefully down, halting just inches off of the ground and hovering to the left of Robin.

Then, the ground near the van seemed to tear open, as if a black hole was forming. Indeed, that was almost exactly what was occurring. Out of the swirling black vortex rose two figures. The first was another girl, though she was many pigments paler than her alien teammate. Most of those pale features were shrouded by the hood of her navy blue cloak. It was, of course, the mysterious Raven.

The second person that emerged from the portal was the most imposing of the group, a mountain of a human being that towered over the others. What had once been broad shoulders were replaced by broader shoulders of steel; once solid muscles of flesh had become indestructible muscles of titanium. The young man stared them down, his right eye a chilling dull gray, the left a glowing red "prosthetic". Most of his mechanical "improvements" coursed with an electric blue energy. This one was the appropriately codenamed Cyborg.

"Sorry, banks closed," the Boy Wonder spat with a scowl. "No with-drawls."

The crook leader smirked under his veil of shadow. "Your one-liners are as corny as they say, Bird-Brain!" he retorted. He did have to admit, though, that those kids could make an entrance.

"Then maybe I'll let my moves speak for me!" Robin called back. Once more he flung his bird-a-rang, sending it straight at the obnoxious law-breaker's skull.

The weapon connected with the criminal's forehead, vibrated, hung lazily in the air for a split second, then fell to the ground in two halves. The villain continued to smirk.

The Titans gawked incredulously at the shattered boomerang, the same query racing through their minds. Robin was the first to regain his composure quickly enough to pose it. "Who are you?" he asked furiously through clenched teeth. He need not have asked, for the answer already stood before him, one that shocked away the incident of just five seconds ago.

The ringleader had removed his hood, revealing his visage for the team to behold. From the bridge of his nose to his chin, he was human. However, any semblance of a man ceased to exist at that point. The entire top of his skull was mechanical, his robotic eyes zooming in and out like binoculars, sizing up his prey. His neck was also quite metallic, but his bare chest was flesh. Both of his arms from the shoulders, as well as both legs from the torso down, were also noticeably metal. Most of his prosthetics buzzed with a powerful green energy, very similar to Cyborg's blue.

He was a cyborg.

"What's the matter, Teen Tinies?" the metal man inquired as his jacket crumpled on the ground in a heap. "Did I catch you off guard?"

He received no response. The Titans were too astonished to answer. Matters only became worse as the man's two accomplices began to remove their coats…

---INSERT THEME SONG---

**Author's Note**: Just a short intro to insert both the protagonists and antagonists in the most dramatic fashion I could think of. Later chapters will be longer. I wanted to avoid the clichéd trap of "It was a normal day at TT Tower, etc.". I hope my effort was not in vain. Also, please note that the "Jump City City Bank WAS intentional. Once again, I was toying around with this concept long before T.E. pt. 1 aired. The episode just helped me make a bit more sense of it. Well, review if you want. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is appreciated. Until next time!


	2. Ch 1 Quadruple Vision

**Disclaimer: **Just to remind you, Teen Titans is the property of WB and DC, with whom I am in no way affiliated.

**Author's Note: **This is the proper first chapter. Sorry it's taken so long. I had an all day acting competition, then I had to make up schoolwork, then I got sick and missed school, so I had to make up more work. Titans East part 2 gave me another good idea for the story, so I'll be rewriting a few chapters. The fic is now set after the Brother Blood incident. This chapter goes out to my fans, Serve the Abbalah and Rurouni Tyriel. Thank you for reviewing me. Hopefully, this will only get better.

Ch. 1: Quadruple Vision 

The green cyborg's two accomplices threw off their overcoats in unison, revealing the enemies beneath. One of the cohorts had the face of a young woman, her gentle features completely unspoiled by any form of blemish; this angelic countenance was cruelly attached to a hulking metal form, a gargantuan mechanical body that radiated a bright yellow glow. The second underling was a man, or at least appeared to be, for his single bloodshot human eye spoke more malice than could be contained in one man. The entire left half of his face was a burning red skull, and his hunching frame was a similarly colored armor.

Robin, both fists and teeth clenched, was the first to speak: "Nice tech," he growled. "Mind telling me where you got it?"

"You'll figure it out," Green shot back with his undying smirk. "For now, let's just play!"

"Titans, go!" Robin barked, throwing himself from the hood of the abandoned car. Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy took to the air, while Cyborg charged forward with a howl. However, as swift as they were, the five heroes had scarcely taken a step by the time Green raised his titanium arm; the appendage whirred and clicked as it changed shape, taking the form of a sonic cannon. A spinning, olive-colored beam exploded from the weapon, drilled into the side of the car, grinding and twisting metal, until it reached the gas tank. There was a spark.

Time seemed to slow in that too short second. Every sound was amplified tenfold: the fluttering of Robin's cape and Raven's cloak, the flap of Beast Boy's elegant falcon wings, the thunder of Cyborg's armored foot as it struck and scattered pavement. There was sweat drenching every Titan's brow; all, that is, except Raven's. With a practiced, elegant hand gesture, the vehicle was enveloped in a sheet of her mystic energy. The magical shield rippled slightly as the van within it burst, the explosion safely contained.

There was a collective mental sigh of relief as the super-powered teens fell back to regroup. Robin shot a glance at the trio as his friends gathered around him. Green had tauntingly lowered his gun, as if daring the Titans to come up with a plan.

Robin, struggling to maintain his collected "leader" persona, addressed his teammates. "We can beat these guys if we gang up on them one at a time," he said, voice wavering. "The problem is separating them…"

Cyborg seemed to have an answer to that dilemma. With a guttural battle cry, he once more rushed toward the three, his red prosthetic eye focusing on the still gloating Green. There was a choked cry and a thundering CRASH as the Titan plowed headlong into the copycat criminal. The Titanium Titan held his unrelenting grip on the doppelganger as he pressed forward. Green made a futile attempt to stay anchored; his robotic feet screeched across the ground, tossing up sparks and pieces of concrete. Cy bypassed Green's two counterparts, continued through the smoldering entrance of the city bank, entered the gaping maw of the ravaged vault, and exited right through the back wall, scattering blocks of cement and steel supports across the sidewalk.

Green's limp form sailed across the street, contorting about in midair, and smashed into the building on the opposite side, leaving a crater as testimony. The cybernetic man groaned as he struggled to his hands and knees, his robotic joints creaking as they realigned themselves.

Cyborg emerged form the freshly created hole, flexing his android muscles as he clomped toward his grounded opponent.

"My friend asked you a question, man. Where'd you get the tech?"

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Robin leaped into the air as a yellow sonic blast impacted a mere inches below, right where his foot would have been. The shockwave generated by the explosion was small, but enough to throw him off balance, causing him to land painfully on his back end instead of his feet. He rolled with it, as he had been trained, using the very momentum of his fall to vault himself back up. He was on his feet just in time to glimpse the hubcap, spinning like a discus straight toward his neck. In the same fluid movement, the Boy Wonder brought up his boot, blocking the lethal projectile with the steel sole.

He frantically tried to get his bearings. He saw that Yellow had seemingly forgotten him, turning her attention the skies, to the girls. Red, however, was completely focused on him, his organic eye bulging with a sadistic joy as he hoisted an abandoned convertible over his head, intent on crushing the young hero.

Fortunately, the demented android just happened to lose his grip on the makeshift weapon as a bright green rhino coincidentally managed to plow into his back, tossing him like a discarded toy straight into his female counterpart.

"Titans, regroup!" called Robin as the dust settled. The other three teens rushed to their leader. Raven erected a wall, separating them from the aggressors.

"These things are insane," said Robin, his normal sangfroid about him once more. "If this fight reaches an area with people in it, we're going to have casualties. I can't let that happen. Beast Boy, I want you to lead us in; turn into something durable and tank them! Starfire, you're going to get me as close as possible to them. Maybe I can hack them. Raven, bring up the rear and cover me and Star. Okay, move out!"

The four heroes rushed out in the planned formation as the black sheet fell: Stegosaurus Beast Boy in the lead, swishing his spiked tail and roaring enthusiastically, Starfire flying low, holding a tense Robin, and Raven in the back, providing a shield for the group.

However, the Titans met only a silent street, desolate of anything but the rubble that remained from the fight, the burlap sacks of stolen loot, and an open manhole. Robin remained motionless as the rest of the team prepared to dive into the sewers, intent on pursuing their foes.

"Stop!" the leader barked. At once the Titans froze, held by the unchallenged power of their commander's voice. "They had plenty of time to snatch up the money, but they left without. They were here for something else."

"Hello? Dude, we just need to chase 'em down and ask 'em," Beast Boy wailed. "Boom! The end."

"I cannot allow any citizen to get hurt, which is what's going to happen if we keep this up," Robin replied grimly. "I have a feeling they'll be back, anyway…"

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Synthetic joints creaked as the two giants grappled, each using the entirety of his body mass, biological or otherwise, to push the other back. It was a wasted effort on both of their accounts; they remained locked in a stalemate struggle, neither one gaining supremacy. Cyborg glared at his new arch-nemesis with his misty, gray human eye, and the olive imposter stared back with cold, lifeless, emotionless binoculars.

"Face it, kiddo," Green stammered, "you have no chance of winning this. Why don't you come along nice and quiet like?"

"Come… along?" struggled Cyborg. His right eye was beginning to twitch just faintly, and perspiration was rolling down his face in torrents.

"My boss wants you," Green smugly elaborated. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish this."

"Thanks," Cy said, a grin spreading across the natural part of his face. "You can tell me the rest later."

The Titan's leg swung up, the sole pressing firmly against the metal dome of Green's noggin. A blast erupted forth, engulfing the fined in a brilliant blue glow. His grip relented, and he tumbled backwards, landing on his back and skidding noisily across the asphalt. His smoking form slowly rose to one arm, head swiveling up only to meet Cyborg's still warm sonic cannon.

"C'mon, man, it's finished."

Yet Green, in the face of capture, still retained that cocky smirk. "On the contrary, friend. It is only postponed. Until next time!"

Before Cy could react, the confident villain's very metal casing produced a sudden blinding flash, accompanied by an ear-splitting bang that disoriented both human and electronic receptors.

By the time his vision cleared, and his optic circuits recalibrated, his foe had vanished, a jagged hole in his place, leaving Cyborg without his answers.

But he had a good idea of where to look…

**Author's Note**: I apologize if this was repetitive at any point; I was still shaking off the flu as I wrote it. In case you didn't notice, writing action isn't one of my strong points. I'd hope people would know to review, and the reason that I only received two was because of the fact it was immediately buried, but just in case, I'll remind you that constructive criticism is much appreciated. Hopefully, the next chapter will come sooner.

**Next Time**: A _speedy_ interrogation takes place as our half-robot buddy contacts some old friends to aid in his desperate search for the identities of the Androids Three.


	3. Ch 2: A Speedy Interrogation

**Disclaimer: **They don't want to sell it, so I don't want to buy it. DC, CN, WB, and Sam Register can keep TT as long as they want.

**Author's Note: **Still two reviews… I'm beginning to think people don't like me. If you read, please leave something in the review box. Maybe the next reviewer can get a mention in the story… I'll figure out how later. Anyway, this chapter contains a lot of talking, which is my writing specialty. If you don't like dialogues, flame me, or something, so I at least know you read it.

Ch. 2: A Speedy Interrogation 

Within the frigid confines of the Steel City Prison were countless criminals, from seedy mobsters to hulking monstrosities. Deep in its underbelly, in a sub-basement level completely isolated from the rest of the facility, was the most infamous, and dangerous, inmate. Shackled to a rotating platform suspended off of the ground, he was hardly a threat, and the massive machinery that rerouted his power supply to keep him deactivated only ensured that. More importantly, the computers constantly monitored his highly-evolved brain, preventing him from using his trademark mind-controlling abilities, making his escape impossible. Then again, the enigmatic man known only as Brother Blood had made dramatic escapes in the past.

The bed whirred as it shifted to a vertical position, turning the unconscious figure to face the cell door. The automated doors hissed open, allowing a single small form to enter. His footfalls echoed on the stone ground as he approached the sleeping cult leader, who was now about as formidable as a small toaster.

The visitor looked toward the surveillance camera on the far wall and flashed a thumbs-up. Almost immediately there was an electronic buzz, and the evil headmaster stirred ever so subtly. The buzzing increased, gradually becoming a hum. The prisoner continued to stir, then convulse. He let out a soft, but still painful, moan, which soon became a deafening shriek. His dull gray robotic coverings began to glow a dull maroon, which continued to amplify until his entire body was coursing with a blood-red light. His flesh eyelid tightened, then snapped open, viewing the world again for the first time in weeks. Brother Blood lived once more.

The H.I.V.E. leader panted heavily for a few seconds, surveying the holding area around him. He was dismayed that he was still in this accursed establishment; a man of his caliber deserved a more spacious and dignified cell, or at the very least one with a comfortable bed with linen sheets, and perhaps a private shower.

There was a sharp whistle, drawing him out of his personal thoughts. He looked down to meet his guest, a teenaged boy wearing a form-fitting scarlet jumpsuit, the insignia "S" sewn onto the left breast. On his back rested a quiver of arrows, which nicely complemented the longbow on which he was leaning. Fiery orange hair topped his head, and a thin black mask obscured his eyes, as well as his true identity. His lips were just slightly upturned, forming a cocky smile.

Brother Blood broke into a grin for the first time since his humiliating defeat. "Ah, my old student. Hello, Speedy."

"Hey, Blood," the archer responded. "Long time no see. 'Course, I'd rather have kept it that way."

"And to what do I owe the honor?" the cybernetic schoolmaster inquired smoothly, despite the obvious sarcasm.

"Well, old pal, it seems our cousins on the west side are having some troubles," Speedy replied in an equally sarcastic manner. "You know anything about their dilemma?"

"I'd love to help an old pupil, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment," Blood said with a smirk.

"Listen, Blood, cut the crap!" the young hero snapped, his entire attitude altering. "I know you know what's going on in Jump City, I know you know the people behind it, and, I don't know how, but I know you engineered it! So just give me the who, how, and why, and I'll leave you to your rotting!"

"Perhaps I would give you your answers," the mastermind snarled, "if you weren't being so blasted vague! Now, let's begin anew, shall we? If you would be so kind as to provide me with the necessary details, perhaps I could provide you with the needed who, how, and why. Agreed?"

"Alright," Speedy sighed, "I'll play along. Three hours ago the Titans West were stopping a robbery and got into a fight with the robbers."

"Hardly unusual," Blood smugly noted, much to the frustration of his interrogator.

"Hardly," growled the young Robin Hood, grinding his teeth. "The three crooks were a little strange this time…"

"How so?" the egotistical fiend asked innocently.

"_Your_ so… eh, that is, your kind of strange," Speedy shot back, tripping up a bit in his rage.

Blood looked genuinely perplexed, offering only a blank stare in response to the Titan's question, along with a small snicker for his slipup. "I really don't know where you're going with this thing," he said after an extended pause.

"Cyborgs, you idiot! Three of them, each one just like the lovable original! And you're the prime suspect, seeing as how you're the only one besides Bumble Bee to have read his blueprints! So why don't you just give me my answers so I can go home and chill? Otherwise, it'll be a really bad day for the both of us!" By the end of his outburst, the furious archer was nearly hyperventilating, and one could almost swear he was literally spewing flamed and smoke.

That said, it was the arch-foe's turn to make his verbal attack. "Very nice theory, my boy," he purred, "but it does have a few holes in it. For example, how do you propose I masterminded the creation of three cybernetic crooks and a robbery **_while unconscious inside of this blasted prison cell!?_**" So intense was the villain's counterstrike that it blasted Speedy straight out of his yellow boots.

The boy scratched the back of his head, mentally replaying what had just occurred. "You… really don't know anything about what happened?" he asked incredulously, not prepared to trust the man who had brainwashed him and forced him to fight against his friends and fellow crime fighters.

"Nothing," was the dry response.

"Nothing? Like, at all? You know, any leads or names or whatever? Nada? Zip?"

"That is what I said," Blood groaned, tiring of the monotonous conversation with the egocentric youth.

"Well, you seem to be sincere…" Speedy pondered, stroking his chin, "…but I'd better make sure. Time to turn up the pressure a little."

The Eastern Titan abruptly jumped, hurling himself at the maniacal villain's metallic bed. His feet slammed into the polished surface with such force that it was thrown back into a horizontal position, parallel to the floor. Speedy's trained hand blurred back to the quiver, snatched one of the arrows, and set it at the ready, his powerful arm holding the bow as steady as a knocked out Cinderblock. The projectile hovered inches above the madman's half-titanium skull; only a lone lad's grip stood between him and an excruciatingly painful experience.

"This is a shock arrow," the boy said, both his voice and face stone, frozen, dead, and otherwise expressionless. Any flicker of the wisecracking kid who had entered scant minutes ago had been completely snuffed out, replaced by some sadistic beast, more coldhearted than Blood himself. "This baby'll fry up your circuits real good. I'll ask one last time: do you know what's going on in Jump City?"

"N-n-no!" the cyborg stammered, his nerves, gut, and backbone draining from his body, leaving his remaining flesh nearly free of pigment. "I swear, I don't know! You're the first person I've spoken to since I was thrown in here. Honestly!"

Speedy quirked an eyebrow, observing Blood for a moment, understandably dubious of the man's credibility. Finally, he lowered his weapon, carefully replacing the arrow. He flashed a grin at his former master, gave him a small salute, and promptly kicked the human portion of his face. He hopped down to the floor, the sound of the impact once again reverberating off of the walls. Without another word, the teen superhero exited the lonely chamber, mechanical door slamming noisily behind him, leaving the inmate engulfed in shadow, save for the red light of his own hardware, which also eventually died.

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"…got nothing," Speedy's voice cracked over the communicator. "To be honest, he seemed even more confused than you did. Sorry."

"That's okay, man," Cyborg sighed, his downcast head nearly touching the floor. "It ain't your fault. I'll keep lookin' on my end."

"And we'll investigate here. You never know, you know?" There was a pause. "I hope you find what you're looking for, man," Cy's comrade said sincerely.

"Me too, bro. Me too." The video screen clicked off, leaving the android alone to sort out his complicated dilemma, which was steadily becoming more perplexing. If Blood didn't make those things, who did, and for what purpose? That psycho was the only one he knew to have read his blueprints, besides Bee, of course. Who else could have known how to build those mediocre windup toys? Frankly, it infuriated Cyborg to no end. With a frustrated howl, he slammed his prosthetic fist into the bulletproof window, leaving a fine pattern a cracks behind.

"I am wondering if you are truly as chilled as you say you are," came a voice, sweet as assorted candies and gentle as a kitten's purr. Cyborg turned to see the fair alien princess floating just above the Recreational Room steps.

"You mean 'cool' Star," the mechanized man corrected, "and I'm beginning to wonder about that myself. It just makes angry, knowing that someone can just make a bunch of mes and turn 'em loose."

"With much respect to you, friend Cyborg, the are not you. They are merely enhanced as you are. They are much meaner than you would ever be. Please do not 'flip up'; you have seen what it has done to Robin."

Cyborg sighed heavily, but offered her a genuine smile as his thanks. Starfire always tried to assist the other Titans in times of need or doubt, making her something of a guardian angel to the team. She was also immensely intelligent, though she often thought of things in terms of emotion rather than logic. It was also difficult to take her seriously when she didn't know Earth phrases as simple as "flip out".

As soon as the Tamaranian girl had exited the room, Cy heaved another sigh, throwing himself heavily onto the couch, lost once more in a sea of loose ends, desperately trying to match them up before they suffocated him. When one doesn't have a single clue, it proves a trying task. He hadn't felt this helpless since…

Since his father repaired him after the lab accident. The Titan's glass eye brightened, his spirit filled with renewed hope, as well as a minute sense of dread.

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Silas Stone hunched over his cluttered desk, scrawling a formula onto a scrap of paper, mumbling strange things, brilliant things to himself, ideas that could alter the course of mankind. He paused, staring at the equation for a moment, hands trembling. He grunted in frustration, in humiliating defeat as he furiously scribbled it out, grumbling about what a fool he was, about how ludicrous his hopes and dreams were now.

When he was a respected man, an energetic young scientist straight out of college and into the field of black-hole studies, Silas Stone was a genius. But now, shunned by the scientific community, gray-haired Dr. Stone was a genius no more, just the silhouette of a great man, a rambling widower who spent his nights alone, fruitlessly attempting to find acceptance. It came as a surprise, therefore, when a shadow fell over him. He hadn't been expecting company; he never did.

His weary, gray eyes drifted up, drinking in the sight of the boy… the man… he had never truly expected to see again. It was a teenager with an athletic build, a tower of muscle. Yet it wasn't organic muscle: it was metallic, sophisticated electronics crafted by the hands of a master, of a genius. Dr. Silas Stone shed a single tear, a stinging, painful tear long overdue.

"Hey, Dad," Cyborg said, his tone burning with a deep hatred. "It's been awhile."

**Author's Note:** And there's the title. Despite it being mostly talking, this is my personal favorite chapter. I feel it is better written than the previous; I always was better at writing character. Still, I'll have a few more fight scenes, and they won't sidestep the action. I threw Star in there as an afterthought, just to have another character play a somewhat significant role. I hope I wrote her well enough. Speedy was there because I'm a Speedy fan boy, and I reveled in making him do soft anti-hero stuff; after all, he is the "bad boy" of the group. Anyway, please review, it would help immensely. Flame me, I don't care, just do something!

**Next Time:** Cyborg is desperate for help, and his father may be the only one who can provide it. But what caused Cy to despise this man so much? Mushy conversations and a possible flashback ensue! Plus, the culprit is revealed, so you won't want to miss it!


	4. Ch 3: Painful Memories

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Teen Titans. I do own a couple of the Wolfman/Perez comics from the '80's (a fine year for comics). As far as copyright goes, DC, CN, and WB own it.

**Author's Note:** Thanks once more to Mr. Serve and Mr. Tyriel for their reviews. I'm glad I'm pleasing you. Tyriel, as far as the three 'borgs go, I thought multi-color would be a good distinguishing feature; I'm really bad at making up names, so Red, Green, and Yellow are good shortcuts. Sorry for the long update wait!

This particular chapter is made up of mostly flashbacks, detailing my version of his origin. Some of the details aren't important, but I may want to tie it in with another planned fic. For now, enjoy!

Ch. 3: Painful Memories 

_STAR Labs, Jump City, three years ago…_

Dr. Silas Stone nervously surveyed the reasonable convention, a rowdy, chattering group of mostly reporters, ready to sink their teeth into this story and dig out a Pulitzer Prize. A few colleagues of his were also blended in, a majority of them more statue than human, their supercomputer brains focused on their own projects. None of them truly mattered; they were obstacles, hurdles to jump over in order to reach the finish line. That's how his son rationalized it, anyway, and he was far wiser than the average teenaged athlete. This presentation was just a way to publicize his work, maybe get a Nobel, swell his pants pocket with STAR Labs' generous paycheck, and support what remained of his family.

He caught sight of his two remaining relatives standing at the fore of the congregation. His fair wife's lips parted, forming a glistening white smile. By his own testimony, it was her smile that made him propose to her, though she would call him a romantic dreamer for it. He didn't much mind; he took pride in being both a scientist and a romantic. There weren't enough in the world.

Next to his wife was the boy, or rather the _man_ now, who Silas bragged was his proudest creation. Stone's only son, Victor, was a towering wall of sheer body mass, standing inches taller than even his athletic friends. The professor not only freely admitted that he had to crane his neck quite a bit to make eye contact with him, but did so with a grin. Not only was the younger Stone skilled at all forms of physical activity, he had also inherited his father's brain, earning straight A's on every report card, a feat that Silas himself couldn't say he accomplished in high school.

The broad-shouldered boy flashed his father a thumbs-up, one that Dr. Stone readily returned. Public speaking wasn't his strong point, but he could- no, he would- do it for his wife and son.

The professor called for attention, and the room fell silent. He took a small swig of water, cleared his throat, took a final glance at his notes, and began to address his crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, pausing for a hasty deep breath, "for many years we have looked to the stars to discover new worlds. Today, we look right here, within. Since the time of the great Einstein, it has been speculated that there are entire universes parallel to our own, invisible to our eyes, for we lacked the means to view them. Ancient scriptures speak of such viewings through magic and the sort. Science fiction refers to these universes as 'alternate dimensions'. For most of my life as a scientist, I have studied this phenomenon, and I can assure you, it is no fantasy!"

At this, the gathering began to burst into conversation, murmurs and cries of madness. The general agreement seemed to be that the idea was simply patent nonsense. Most of the journalists present laughed uproariously. The steel-faced scientists simply shook their heads, looking down at their watches, impatiently shuffling their feet. None of them seemed to notice the stabbing glances that young Victor was tossing their way, but Silas didn't care; their indifference only drove him on. His confidence began to climb, all uneasiness completely dissipating. So they didn't believe him? Good, it would only be more satisfying when he proved them wrong!

"Is it so incredible, my friends?" he exclaimed, not a drop of fear left in his steady voice. "It does exist; I have viewed it with my undeserving eyes, and this was the tool!"

It was now that Stone approached the center of the tiny room, where there stood a great form covered by a tarp. He tore the sheet away in a flourish, and it drifted slowly to the polished steel floor. The behemoth machine was revealed; a strange apparatus was suspended a few feet off of the ground, two thin metal "arms" bending to form a circular shape, about six feet in diameter. Below it was a host of miniature super computers and control panels, blinking on and off like turn signals. The result from the crowd was less than enthusiastic; indeed, they seemed even more skeptical than they had two seconds ago. Nonetheless, Silas Stone was beaming; they'd see soon enough.

Without further hesitation, without regret or second thought, the scientist approached his invention, his wide smile lingering. He let his hands hovered over the control board for a moment to reflect; this was it, the fruits of his efforts, his masterwork, his grand, glittering dream, and he was basking in it. Humming the tune of "Happy Days", he flipped the switches one at a time, in an overdramatic fashion, and the various pieces of machinery about him soon joined in, brought to life by his own two hands. His eyes drifted to the activation button, giving off its soft green glow, waiting.

"Ladies and gentleman," Stone called over the increasing racket, "fasten your seatbelts!" With that, he jammed the trigger down.

The two "arms" of the device began to rotate, moving like a wounded turtle at first, but steadily gaining speed, spinning faster and faster until the were nearly invisible, just a single blur. Slowly, a black energy began to form around the metallic tornado, rippling like water. The spectators' shock turned to near panic as the orb began to tear open, belching out a brilliant light, far brighter than any person in that room had ever seen. Through it all, Stone continued to grin.

That smile fled his face, however, when a deafening siren wailed out, and emergency lights bathed the area in red. Silas reacted before he thought, hand instinctively lashing out to pull back the abort lever. The device did not respond; if anything, the process intensified, the maw to the plane beyond opening wider. It was beyond his control now; the arms were spinning faster than the Flash himself, and were only building up speed. Completely helpless, Stone knew that in a matter of seconds, the emergency isolation protocol would activate, sealing the machine and any stragglers behind a solid steel blast door.

The doctor did the only thing he could think of. "Run!" he cried, his voice drowned out by the alarms.

The crowd was already rushing towards the exit, jostling and shoving to pass one another, blind and deaf to anything else. Even the inventor himself was not impervious to fear, and was among the first to rush out, momentarily forgetting his own flesh and blood inside the testing area. His wife was at the very rear of the group, standing alone in the mass hysteria. Victor was farther ahead in the group, carried forward by the waves of the fleeing crowd.

Trying to gain passage through the stalled rush, she chanced a wary glance toward the unstable device, the still open gateway. She screamed as a clawed hand breached the rip, pulling with it a hideous creature with it. She scarcely had time to look at the beast before it pounced, with a deep, resounding howl, landing roughly on top of her. She collapsed under its tremendous weight, and it hurled her aside like a broken toy, uncaring, indifferent to her fate. It took flight on bat-like wings, soaring over the heads of the frantic mob before disappearing into the twisting, tangled hallways of the research facility.

The last person burst through the doorway, panting heavily but otherwise undamaged, at least until he was shoved aside by a raging Victor Stone. The young man sprinted into the fires of Death himself, well-muscled arms already reaching out for the limp, crumpled form of his mother.

"No!" cried the elder Stone, starting after his infinitely bolder son. Alas, fate's cruel hand slammed the door shut, a mechanical click and hiss fully sealing it. There was a pounding on both sides of the barrier, each of the Stone men calling out for the door to be opened, neither one having the power to make it so. Soon, Victor's screams were silenced by an explosion.

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Residence of Dr. Silas Stone, present 

The tired old man casually wiped the tear that was snaking its way down his cheek. He straightened himself in his chair, locking eyes with his technologically improved son. His eyes continued to swell with tears too seldom cried, yet he attempted, largely unsuccessfully, to remain as emotionless as the boy.

"Son," he said, his hoarse voice quivering. "It's nice to see you again. I've been keeping up with your little escapades. It certainly has been some time since we last saw each other directly."

"Yeah," Cyborg responded, his voice cold, hollow, as unfeeling as a machine, "since the day I woke up half the man I used to be."

"So, how's life?" the older man asked awkwardly, unnerved by the situation.

"Oh, y'know, pretty good. Kickin' bad guy butt and protecting the city."

"I meant your personal life," the father growled, slightly agitated by his son's irritable attitude.

Cy's glazed organic eye narrowed, boring a hole into the soul of the man he had called "Dad". "Just awesome, Pops," he sighed. "Freakin' booyah."

"For God's sake, Vi… Cyborg," Silas burst, rising abruptly to his feet, sending the chair toppling to the carpeted floor with a soft thud, "I know that's a lie! You haven't had one good day since that accident! I remember it just as well as you. You were furious, absolutely berserk. And…" The man ceased his berating, pausing as the dam broke, allowing the tears to finally flood out. "…and, God save me, it's all my fault."

Stone collapsed at his last remaining relative's hydraulic feet, faced buried deep in his hands, hiding the shame from his cursing view.

The half-robot gave the broken man no relief, offered no sympathy, no warm smile and helping hand to pull him to his feet. Instead, said, voice deadpan, "Get up. We have to talk."

Inhaling his misery, the shattered soul arose shakily, trembling as he looked upward once more into flesh and glass eyes. "What about?"

"There was an attack on the bank today."

"Ah, yes," the doctor sighed, wiping the moisture from his bloodshot eyes, "I heard about that in the news."

"So you know about those three copycats?" Cyborg asked, his voice brightening subconsciously, though his tone and demeanor remained rough.

"Yeah, I do. And quite frankly, it ticks me off quite a bit."

"At least there's one thing we can agree on," Cy hissed spitefully, unforgiving.

His venom seeped deeply into Stone's veins, causing him to drop his head in a sharp motion, a futile attempt to shield himself from his own blood's ill will. Yet the teen hero could view his father quite clearly; perhaps, in that one instant at least, he saw the man with a cleared vision. For the first time since the accident, Cyborg saw a brokenhearted man, one with remorse deeper than the seven seas themselves. In that instant, Cyborg's artificial heart melted, and he was Victor Stone once more, looking at his dad with admiration sparkling in his dark brown eyes.

The boy exhaled. "Listen, Dad," he said softly, though his words still held a grudge, "we've had our differences in the past. What I need now isn't an apology. I need your help. Honest, professional help. Can I count on you?"

The doctor silently nodded, head still downcast, as if in a daze.

"Do you know if anyone else has seen my blueprints? Are there any copies out there, any way at all that somebody would be able to mass produce me?"

Still unspeaking, the doctor shook his head negatively. He appeared tense, yet he seemed as though he was in a trance.

"Silas, talk to me. I need your help."

Silas slowly reestablished eye contact, allowing his son to look deeply into him, into his mind, into his heart, into his very soul. Though the half robot was no Raven, he read the emotions as clearly as written word in boldface type. In addition to the deep-rooted guilt, he saw something else, a glimmering speck that overpowered his senses. He immediately identified it, yet the elder Stone spoke it out, as if to confirm it. "I love you, son. I always have. I was never angry with you. I was only upset you'd despise me for saving your life."

Cyborg said nothing, for at that moment, he walked twenty miles in his father's shoes. He was flooded with the same overwhelming guilt that had infected his father for the past three years.

Silas stumbled over to the bookshelf behind his desk, hesitating as he contemplated his next action. He reached forward, his hand brushing against an obscured object. He withdrew his digits quickly, as if the thing was scalding hot. After a bit more deliberation, he took it up and hastened back to the metal giant.

"I created this quite some time ago," he mumbled, holding up a yellow, disc-shaped device. "It's a locator to track your signature wavelength. If they operate on the same frequency that you do, you'll be able to track them down."

Cyborg accepted the tiny machine, glancing at its grid-lined location screen. Already, three distant blips had registered, no doubt his quarry making plans for future raids. At once he started for the door, but paused in mid step. He turned to his father, who suddenly seemed a much taller man than he had when the meeting began.

"Go kick some butt," the scientist urged. "I'll be here later."

The titanium Titan took his advice with some reluctance, dashing out the front door. Seconds later, an engine roared to life, then screamed into the distance, gradually dying. When it was completely inaudible, Silas wandered back to his cluttered desk, gently lifted the chair to its legs, and sat. He looked at the cracks in the oak wood for a minute or two, reflecting. Then, with a nod to himself, he pressed the red button concealed under his desk.

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In a perfect world, the various spacious warehouses on the piers of the Jump City Bay would be highly trafficked area, a place bursting to the seams with activity: workers dodging about, rushing to complete their duties and punch out, vehicles entering and exiting the massive structures, retrieving supplies to distribute throughout the town, and boats lining up to dock and deliver overflowing crates.

The world is far from perfect. The warehouses on Jump City Bay were largely abandoned, completely devoid of any sign of life. A stray dock employee might be found mindlessly drifting about, but few dared to venture near this location; over the years, it had become a haven for criminal activity, mostly arms deals. Containers of weapons were piled into great hills within those concrete confines, and nobody could do a blasted thing about it.

Naturally, it was within one of these buildings that Cyborg's quarry resided. Stealthily, he scaled the outer wall of the crumbling building, his metallic fingers digging easily into the cracked cement. He vaulted easily through the upper-level window, plummeted downwards for a few feet, and landed with a resounding clang followed by the crunch of the stone floor beneath him. Already he was in a defensive stance, his sonic cannon arm whining as it charged. His head swiveled about, seeking out his opponents. After several grueling seconds, however, no soul was in sight, and all was still; the faint drone of crickets was the only audible sound.

The robot glanced at the tracer, now sticking to his arm by magnet. He reasoned it could be malfunctioning, or picking up the reading from some other source, but the three blips remained, pinpointing the doppelgangers directly in front of him.

As if on cue, the crates surrounding him began to burst open, sending errant pieces of shrapnel sailing about. Cyborg cringed, throwing up his forearms to shield himself. Thick dust permeated the air, causing him to cough and regret just how lifelike his replacement windpipe was. Instinctively, he switched his optics to IR view to cut through the smoke; on the distant side of the warehouse, exactly where the locator had pointed, stood the Cyborgs Three, their heat signature highlighting them clearly. The Titan prepared to charge, but yielded as the true precariousness of the situation was revealed.

Lined up neatly in rows and columns, standing brainlessly amidst the rubble, were foes that Cyborg had come to know all too well in his service; he had battled them dozens of times. Slade had once taken over the city with their aid, and, straining his literal photographic memory, he recalled that Brother Blood had used them to train his brainwashed super-powered students. It was unmistakable; a headless, silver "body, a black X across where the chest would be, and above it, a single, empty glass eye. Cyborg eyed the vice-gripping pincer arms with some anxiety.

In the space of five seconds, he had gone from chasing a trio of petty crooks to facing down a robot army.

A chuckle drew the human android's attention upward. "Do you like my little toys?" cracked a thick Chinese accent. A holographic screen hovered down, stopping inches from Cyborg's face. It displayed the visage of a withered old Chinaman, the upper portion of his face hidden by a bulky pair of solid black goggles and a blocky white helmet. A respirator hose snaked its way out of his loose-fitting collar and disappeared into his nostril. He gleefully rubbed his gloved palms together, like a child about to win a game.

"Real fun, Professor Chang!"

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure if that was the big reveal everyone was hoping for, but it's what I've got. Good ol' Chang fit in, and I must admit, I have a soft spot for him. Don't worry, this yarn is not yet over, and I'll keep spinning until it is. It's close to done, though. I'd like to thank my creative writing teacher. She knows why…

**Next Time:** All out action! Cyborg stands alone against an army of robots and three upgraded half-robots. Can the Teen Titans reach him in time to help? Will he want help when they arrive? Don't forget to review, please!


	5. Ch 4: War

**Disclaimer:** I doubt I need to reiterate that I don't own Teen Titans. However, I don't desire to go through any legal red tape, so I'll say again that it belongs to DC, CN, and WB.

**Author's Notes: **This was a bit of a challenge, but I attempted to convey the action in the best way possible. I really don't like writing action, but I actually had fun with this.

Thanks to all reviewers. My classmates in creative writing decided to check out my work here, and I thank those who reviewed (Dana and Redd). I'm glad I have my fans. Well, onwards, I suppose.

Ch. 4: War 

The professor cackled gleefully, slapping his knee heartily and rocking back and forth like a madman. He stopped short as his breath became ragged, causing him to wheeze and hack violently. He panted for a moment, gradually bringing his wrinkled head back into the camera's view, once more smiling wickedly.

"You done havin' a seizure, old man?" Cyborg grunted, quickly annoyed by the demented doctor's act. "I got things I need to ask your tin cans!"

"That's what I like about you, kiddo," chuckled Chang. "You're a lad of spirit. Alright, here's the deal: if you can win a little game of war, my men will answer anything you ask."

"Deal!" the teen yelled confidently, angry enough to vent his rage on… well, an army.

"I'll send word to the undertaker," taunted the professor as the video-screen flickered off and retreated, the roar its hovering pack fading to a faint whine as it zipped out of the window.

"Oh, I did not just get put down by a geriatric Fu Manchu!" roared Cyborg, his glass eye flaring red. "Alright, you gearheads, give me what you got!"

The battalion of machines complied, blindly converging as a single, brainless unit upon the teen's lone figure. The foremost tank spread apart the crushing halves of its gripping pincers, advancing clumsily, its hooves ravaging the cement floor beneath. It drew closer, closer, drawing back the claws, preparing for a relentless strike.

Cyborg's blindingly swift fist shattered the bulky robot's single eye, rudely interrupting the charge. His hand still firmly embedded in the aggressor's "skull", the Titan easily allowed it to shift into a plasma cannon. Without hesitation, he fired a shot that tore through the grunt's titanium hide as if it were a sheet of tin foil. It penetrated the thick layers armor that made up the midsection of the second closest attacker, slicing him cleanly in two. The plummeting upper torso convulsed, disturbed by the unstable electronics, then burst apart in a fabulous explosion, peppering the remaining phalanx with errant gears and shards of twisted "skin".

The army continued to surge forward, single-minded in their destructive mission. Cy, unshaken despite the seemingly unfavorable odds, gripped the claw of the dead behemoth still in his grasp and wrenched it from the socket with a sharp tug. He swung the severed limb like a long-sword, butchering the adversaries that politely lined up single-file for him. Gradually, he cut a hole through the onslaught, leaving in his wake scattered junk piles, sparks still dancing from the jaggedly separated wires.

Cyborg brought down the heavy appendage once more, but this time it fell into a pulsing green robotic hand, ceasing his berserker's rampage. Momentarily disoriented by the unexpected lull, the Titan found himself rocketing forward a short distance, pulled behind his makeshift weapon. He recoiled as two binocular lenses nearly impaled his face. The lenses whirred as they zoomed out, returning to the dull green dome that was the skull of the imposter's commander. The cocky criminal motioned for the robotic underlings to cease their blitz; it was clear he desired to settle the score personally.

"Round two, sport," Green cackled through his persistent grin, letting his prosthetic arm rearrange itself into Cyborg's trademark weapon. "I have so looked forward to this bout."

"Then why don't we go at it?" the Titanium Titan spat as threw himself forward, plasma cannon already charging, fully intent on pummeling the fiend until his circuits, cogs, and gears spilled out across the floor in mountains.

Cy's back struck the ground with a sharp clang, bounced like rubber, then skidded with a nail-on-chalkboard screech, a scar marking his path on the cement. He bolted upright, as though awakening in a cold sweat, and met the oversized sole of a steel boot, or rather the synthetic foot of a 'droid. He skied across the floor again, but was able to force himself upward in mid-flight, firing a plasma beam in the direction that he anticipated his foe would be. The floor exploded, a smoldering crater appearing below the airborne figure of Yellow. Silken dark hair cascading behind her, she allowed gravity to close the gap between them as Cyborg, regaining his bearings, began to level the gun for another shot. She twisted gracefully in midair, annoying the Titan's steel steady aim.

Cyborg, thoroughly exposed, could do nothing as Yellow, in a single fluid motion, planted her massive feet firmly on his chest, causing the plates to moan and shift under the strain, lashed out with her hand, gripped tightly to his weapon-bearing limb, twisted it off with a snapping flick of her wrist, and vaulted off of his grounded, battered carcass, rejoining her two comrades.

Great, so she was big _and_ nimble.

The teen hero scarcely had time enough to struggle to his one remaining arm; a forklift fell from the from the heavens like a bolt of lightning, its hydraulic prongs threatening to skewer the newly left-handed mech-man. He hastily rolled to the side, a rash, perhaps even stupid maneuver; the "arms" absorbed the majority of the impact as it collided with the ground, causing a small tremor to shake the vehicle. The lift remained idle for a moment, then began to bow down toward Cy's prone form.

"Aw, c'mon now!" shouted a despaired Titan as he flung up all three of his attached appendages, catching the toppling lift before it could turn him into sheet metal and a mess ketchup. The tons-heavy vehicle fought against his fatigued circuitry, edging closer as bolts popped and screws snapped.

Green retained his smug smirk as he brought up his rifle, setting his telescopic sights on the very forklift that was attempting to flatten Cyborg like so many condemned cars; his internal sensors chirped as the crosshairs adjusted and locked on. "Hasta la vista, baby," he purred as the charged weapon whistled. In the millisecond before the spiraling beam erupted outward, a disc-shaped object seemed to materialize from nothingness, lodging itself in the gaping mouth of the cannon. The obstruction absorbed the entirety of the beam as it was spewed forth from the barrel, and it ignited, bursting into a brilliant ball of fire and smoke that cracked and shattered Green's offending arm, rendering it useless.

"That, my friend, was the Sonic Boom,' echoed a voice from above.

The green machine craned his robotic neck, focusing his computerized vision in a frantic race to pinpoint the source of the new adversary. "Oh no…" he grumbled as he finally located the offender.

The silhouette of Robin crouched in the opening of the window, his pose reminiscent of a gargoyle's. His black and yellow cape billowed dramatically behind him, and his heavily gelled black hair glistened in the moonlight; as always, he made a dramatic entrance. "Arm for an arm," the Boy Wonder growled as he whipped out his trustworthy titanium retractable bo-staff, extending it to its full length of five feet.

Cyborg clenched his teeth, squeezing his human eye firmly shut as he thrust up against the burden of the forklift. Gradually, however, the stress on his limbs began to alleviate; tons became pounds, then shifted ounces, then disappeared into nonexistence. Hesitantly, he opened his eye, fearing that he may have been crushed and, well, sent to a place where he didn't have to bench-press to save his life. He needn't have concerned himself with the ridiculously paranoid thought; the lift was being lifted itself, hovering under the power of a mystic black energy. The telekinetic force flung it into the distant recesses of the warehouse, where it landed with an overly audible crash. Seconds later, a bizarre, solid black form in the shape of a humanoid bird seeped up through the floor like a cloud of mist, creeping over to the panting half-human Titan, shifting form as it moved; beak became navy blue hood, wings became a flowing cape of the same color, and the features of a pale young girl appeared where there had been none. Cy refused the materialized Raven's help up, more irritable than the Goth girl herself at the moment; he grumbled about their needless involvement in his problems as he awkwardly rose to his feet with only the assistance of his own single left hand. Raven simply shot him a blank glare, mildly annoyed by her teammate's swelled pride, which was currently rivaling their leader's.

The Boy Wonder leapt, twirling gracefully as he descended to the ground level. The "clomp" of his impact reverberated off of the towering walls of the structure. Through the cleared opening soared Starfire and falcon Beast Boy on wings of unbridled joy and green feathers, respectively. Star halted her fall scant inches above the ground, hovering just above the stone. In contrast, Beast Boy morphed in mid-fall, talons becoming hooves, beak changing into a snout, silken feathers shifting into coarse fur, and curves, sharpened horns sprouting from his rapidly growing head. The Emerald Elf galloped to steady himself as he landed from his plummet as an ox.

The Titans stood together, staring down the trio of half-robots that calmly returned the glare from just scant feet away. Green was no fool; he knew too well that when in a group, the Titans were as powerful as the immortal beasts of myth. Yet his overconfident grin persisted, his demeanor of icy coolness completely unwavering.

"What have you got to smile about?" hissed Robin, his normally calm face distorted in an agitated rage.

"I think you forgot something," Green replied flatly, motioning to the still motionless steel statues that once were, and could still be, killer robots. The malicious mechanized monstrosity snapped his organic fingers, causing the grunts to snap back to life, renewed purpose coursing through their copper veins.

The Titans tensed, taking up defensive positions in preparation for the oncoming explosive battle. Robin clutched his staff in his left hand, holding it parallel to the ground, while his right hand discreetly drifted to his utility belt, drawing out three of his trademark bird-shaped projectiles. Starfire's hands radiated overpowering emerald fury, and Raven's were encased in a telekinetic aura of dark magic. Beast Boy nervously slid into the form of a stegosaurus, the coarse ox hairs giving way to rough, green scales, the newly sprouted pointed armored plates on his back flexing to work out any stiffness. Cyborg vanished, unnoticed by his comrades, into some distant recess of the warehouse, becoming a predator, waiting for ideal the opportunity to strike.

The battle between the Teen Titans and Chang's unstoppable robot collection was relentless; as the mindless dolls continued to flood toward them, the team was gradually beginning to show signs of fatigue: rasping pants, misplaced footing, inaccurate blows, and drenching perspiration. Nevertheless, the teens somehow managed to push it back, to continue the seemingly pointless fight; perhaps it was their bottomless dedication to their friend, a friend who now appeared to be unfaithful, as he was the only one not fighting.

Robin's staff demolished the polished head of one of the machines, sending glass and sparking wires flying out. He tossed another three of his boomerangs, piercing the glowing red eyes of three of the monstrosities. Another Cyclops collapsed under the fury of the Boy Wonder's steel boots, punching a small gap in the rush and allowing Robin a much- needed opportunity to regain his bearings. His concealed eyes darted about, attempting to account for each of his teammates. Beast Boy was managing well, keeping the onslaught of adversaries at bay with quick, powerful swipes of his barbed tail. Raven, however, was less fortunate; she lay unconscious, a sitting duck for the mad robots. Had Starfire not been defending her prone figure with a flurry of starbolts, the dark girl would certainly have suffered an even worse fate. It was at this point that Robin first took notice of Cyborg's absence from the battle, though judging by the rapidly thinning troops of the robot army, his assistance would not be soon required, but it wouldn't stop Robin from giving him a stern lecture later.

Robin was snapped out of his daydreaming as the skylight above his head shattered, sending countless shards of razor-sharp glass plummeting down. He threw up his arms, twirling his staff to deflect the deadly drizzle, which pattered gently to the ground. Immediately, a robot cavalry began to leap through the new opening, crashing to the floor dangerously close to the Titan's leader. The battle once more became a futile one for the heroes; they were quickly tiring, and there was no end to the eternally energetic androids.

Green's lips remained upturned as his lenses scanned the battlefield. He swiveled his head on his prosthetic neck, looking at his two cohorts. "The drones look pretty lonely out there," he said. "Why don't you keep them company?"

The villain had hardly drawn another breath before both of his counterparts had vanished into the fray, their malice driving them forward, intent on victory. Green continued to smirk as he watched the bouts, a silent onlooker, knowing better than to try and soil his single remaining hand; fighting with an injury, especially one as severe as a missing limb, was foolish ground to tread, and Green prided himself in not being foolish, unlike his single-minded partners.

It was at that moment that the predator pounced, letting his full, dead weight collapse into the olive adversary, causing them both to collapse in limp heaps to the floor. Cyborg was the first back on his feet, his form looming ominously over Green's still paralyzed form. The Titanium hero nearly forgot himself, was nearly tempted to send the fiend to wherever bad guys go when they stopped breathing. He refrained from pummeling the doppelganger's face; he was a hero, and heroes didn't murder, not to mention the fact that at least one of these things had to survive the battle so he could find out where Professor Chang was.

"Looks like I won," Cyborg murmured icily at the half-man.

The reply came in the form of a green, iron fist whooshing toward the Titan's flesh jaw, instead connecting with a similar fist, this one an electric blue. Though he had managed to guard against the blow, Cy was left no opening to parry, especially considering his right arm was gone. His enemy seized the opportunity, shoving the overwhelmed teen back on gelatin legs, flipping himself to his own feet, and, letting his momentum carry him forward, head-butting the skin portion of Cyborg's skull with his completely metal one.

"Round three, then," Green chuckled as he darted into the still reeling Cyborg, beginning what was surely the most spectacular fight between two one-armed half-machines in recorded history.

Beast Boy's massive spiked tail continued to sway back and forth in a now monotonous motion, almost natural to the elf by this point. The bored shape-shifter hardly took notice when the tail stopped flicking, though he was fully attentive when his tremendous form collided against one of the far walls of the structure, the sudden burst of pain causing him to revert to his natural, humanoid form.

"Dude," he stuttered hazily, "anyone get the license plate of that rocket ship?"

He shook his clouded head in a comical fashion, his peanut-sized brain rattling inside his fuzzy head. His wide, green eyes shot up, beholding the demented yellow android that was presently flying at him in the most literal sense of the word. The vertically challenged changeling's eyes became larger than the hubcaps on the T-Car, and, with the yelp that would embarrass a small puppy, Beast Boy was in the air as well, gliding gracefully on the wings of a bald eagle.

Her auburn eyes devoid of emotion, the brunette behemoth, smoothly raised her bright yellow arm; her oversized hand detached, though still remained on a chord in her wrist, rocketed to the fleeing Beast Boy, clutched him in a vice-grip, and reeled him in like a fish. As the arm became whole again, Yellow flung the now humanoid (again) B.B. against the wall (again). It was clear that the vegetarian crime fighter would not escape this battle.

"What can I say?" laughed the ever-insecure Beast Boy, trying to alleviate the stress of his dilemma. "The ladies can't keep their hands off me." He found this too true as the unfeeling android wrapped her rather large hands cruelly around his rather puny neck.

Torrents of robots lumbered toward the orange-skinned alien girl, and torrents melted into liquid metal, courtesy of her starbolts. She was undeniably exhausted, worn down by the repeated use of her powers. A careful glance over her shoulder reminded her of why she could not falter; friend Raven lay unmoving behind her, severely injured and unmoving, unable to fend for herself. Starfire cared for each of her Earth friends, but she had grown very fond of Raven, who was second in her heart only to Robin; she believed the Earth term to describe the bond was "B.F.F.", though Raven did not readily admit it. Star did not want to see one of her best friends destroyed before her eyes, and thus played guardian angel once more.

Red's single, bloodshot, bulging, biological eye narrowed as much as it could. The alien was formidable, but was focused entirely on the soldiers in front of her, all of whom were too stupid to sneak up behind. Red, while a, idiotic, psychopathic berserker himself, had sense enough about him to attempt to blindside the Tamarainian princess. He breathed longingly as he stalked forward, the scent of green blood (or whatever color blood she had) filling his nostril. The haunting smile of a serial killer spread across the human half of his face as he drew ever closer.

There was a sudden zip as a streak of red and white blurred past him, throwing him off balance. The streak halted very briefly, then about-faced, darting around the killer in a wide arc that gradually shrunk as it repeated the move, speeding up with each pass. The streak was soon a tornado, one which engulfed the nauseous robot, the wing reaching down and hoisting him up, carrying him through the window.

The blood red villain let out an inhuman grunt as he struck the crumbling asphalt outside of the towering warehouse. He drunkenly struggled to regain his composure, but was still left dizzy by his sickening brush with the twister. As the ringing in his ears subsided, it was replaced by the sound of hysterical laughter. The criminal forced himself to face the source of the sound, though it did little good for his splitting headache.

On the roof sat a crimson clad redheaded boy clutching a bow. He pounded his fist onto the surface of the roof as his laughter died down. "So," he sighed cockily, "those bums started a party and didn't invite their east coast brethren? They injure me? Surely they don't think I couldn't handle some hood like you."

With a furious howl, Red was on his feet, any previous hesitation forgotten, exploding out from his synthetic lungs. He glared daggers at Speedy, who casually yawned, tapping his dangling feet against the side of the building. As was the usual effect, the archer's cocky actions only served to fuel the monster's fury. The beast looked about the area, locating a U-Haul truck and deeming it a sufficient weapon. He bounded over to it, easily lifting it over his head, gritting his metal teeth.

Speedy's trained hand snapped back to his quiver, snatching an arrow, setting it in the bow, and letting it fly, all in the space of one second. The arrow sank into the gas tank of the huge truck, sending thousands of volts of electricity coursing through vehicle, cyborg, and gasoline. The liquid ignited, prompting the entire truck to explode, spewing fire and throwing scraps of debris across the area. The unconscious madman was fortunate enough to escape the blaze, losing only his arms, now only sparking stumps.

Speedy shook his head, chuckling lightly to himself. "Well, you know what the say about playing with fireworks and all that jazz."

The crimson archer peeked into the ravaged battlefield that was the warehouse through the open skylight. The twin, dwarven supers-peedsters, Mas and Menos, were already tipping the scale in the Titans' favor; they had relocated Raven to a safer area within the building, allowing Starfire to work unimpaired, and were themselves zipping through the enemy forces, drilling them apart one by one with tools they had procured somewhere on site. Beast Boy was receiving a severe beating from the yellow cyborg until Star plowed fists first into her side, knocking her a good ten feet away. Robin was holding his own against the unending supply of robots, though he looked as if he would fall asleep standing at any moment. Cyborg and Green were nowhere to be found.

Speedy smirked as he drew back one of his energy arrows, taking careful aim at the baddie closest to the Boy Wonder. He released it, piercing the eye directly through the center. He wasted no time in firing another, then another, and another still, until death rained down upon the remaining forces, scattering the troops. Every kind of arrow imaginable fell: shock, fire, ice, explosive, nets, and even a few boxing gloves. Each deadly projectile struck its intended target until nothing remained except heaps of junk and a dry quiver.

"We are victorious!" Starfire exclaimed exuberantly, throwing up her arms and joyfully looping in midair.

"Not yet," grumbled Robin. "We have one bogie and one ally MIA."

"Yeah, nice of Cy to go AWOL on us in the middle of a fight," whined Beast Boy in his squeaky voice. The class clown of the team might have continued to gripe had a pair of familiar yellow hands not wrapped firmly around his throat. He let out a choked gasp, his pointed ears flattening. "Little help here, guys," he weakly wheezed.

The white clad, goggled (and incredibly stout) twin heroes known as Mas Y Menos were the first of the group to react, the former hopping onto the latter's shoulders to activate their superhuman speed. In a flash, they rushed past the demented android, pulling the nearly strangled Beast Boy with them, leaving the vulnerable Yellow strangling air. Starfire took the initiative, pouring all the blind rage left in her soul into the ape. The starbeams from both her palms and eyes tore through the electronic chest cavity of the cyborg, obliterating the battery that acted as her power source and deactivating her, for the moment, at least.

The team stood motionless, distrustful of the broken, battered, smoking android, fearing that she might not truly be down and out. Finally, the tense humor dropped, and the teens once more returned to their discussion.

""Dude," Beast Boy rasped, rubbing his bruised neck, "Tinman totally owes me."

"He owes all of us," Robin said with a scowl. "He'll be getting an earful from me, you can count on that." Robin removed the disc-shaped communicator from his nearly empty utility belt, depressing the outcall button sharply. "Cyborg," he spat into the speaker, "you'd better have a good reason for abandoning us back there."

Robin released the button, awaiting Cyborg's sheepish, apologetic response. Static was the only answer.

"Cyborg!" barked the Boy Wonder, assuming that his teammate was either too angry or too scared to reply.

The static buzzed on unbroken, unchanging, unliving.

"Cyborg?" Robin asked, becoming more concerned about the safety of his associate, his friend.

Static, and nothing more.

**Author's Note:** I truly am sorry that it took this long to update. I did a lot of rewrites for this, and hit many brick walls, including coping with bronchitis. This is, and will most likely remain, my longest chapter. I hope it was well written. It truly was a challenge, but I hope the challenge helped me grow as a writer. Review, flame, whatever. I love you all (all four of you)!

**Next Time:** What is Cyborg's fate? Why does Cang want him? The truth will shock you!


	6. Ch 5: Finding Cyborg

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Teen Titans. If I did… well, I'd still be on this site. I just wouldn't write a disclaimer.

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the long wait. Originally, I had a big revelation planned for this chapter, but now, my faithful readers, you'll just have to wait 'til the next one. Enjoy.

Ch. 5: Finding Cyborg 

The grim-featured Robin, apprentice of the infamous Batman and leader of the fabled Teen Titans, paced about the ravaged warehouse, tailed shortly by what some referred to as his double, the equally famous Speedy. The Boy Wonder's masked eyes scanned the floor, darting quickly about the concrete floor, which was now littered with shards glass, scraps metal, and splinters wood. The expertly trained eyes passed over each meaningless piece of debris, looking, always searching.

"So, what are we still doing here?" Speedy asked, breaking the barrier of silence that his counterpart had erected. Although Robin's eyes were obscured behind the solid white lenses of his thin mask, Speedy could feel the fury of the stern glare; the Boy Wonder had some inexplicable method of conveying such actions. "Hey, sorry," Speedy grinned, rubbing the back of his red head. "I just want to know so I can do something besides watching you meander around."

Robin's nostrils began to flare, but quickly contracted. He heaved a tremendous sigh, calming himself. 'Just like Raven says', he thought. 'Find your center and relax'. A quick learner, the commander of the Titans had little trouble with the task, and his breath steadied. "We're here," he explained, never facing Speedy, "because we need to find out where the heck Cyborg's going. His communicator is off, his tracker deactivated, and Raven is incapacitated, so we can't have her find him."

"Oh, I see," Speedy chuckled, kicking a crumbled piece of cement with his yellow boot. "World's second greatest detective at work. Well, I'll stay out of your way."

"Will you quit messing around!" Robin snapped, halting himself in mid-sentence to once more alleviate his aggravation. "Mas and Menos had to take Raven to the Tower and give her medical attention. Star had to bring the crooks to jail. Beast Boy's performing a sweep of the city to see if he can spot Cy from the sky. Trust me, if I could have anyone else here in your place, I would. But that's not the case, so I suggest you at least attempt to make yourself useful and search for clues."

Speedy harrumphed, crossed his arms, and stuck his nose high into the air in a very exaggerated fashion. He allowed a smile to brighten his face when he noticed how much his joking antics were getting on Robin's nerves. "So what exactly are we looking for?" he asked through his usual cocky smirk.

Robin stooped down, scooping up a small amount of charred concrete, running it through his gloved fingers, his eye-mask thinning as he carefully examined it. "Anything," he finally replied after brief pause, immediately returning to his work after the breath had escaped his lips. For several more minutes, silence reined, clasping shut the mouths of the two teen heroes. "Why didn't the rest of the Titans East come?" Robin inquired, surprisingly shattering the wall he himself had put up."

"You know," Speedy said as he recovered from his shock, "business, business, business. They were checking out a potential newbie. Those two lovable chums of mine decided Double-M would have a bit of a communication problem and that I… well, let's just say my charming personality wouldn't suit the mission."

"It's a girl, huh?" Robin stated with a sly smirk.

"Yeah," the archer growled through his grinding pearly whites.

"Can't blame them," the Boy Wonder said, eying a four-inch deep crater. "We all remember what happened with Donna."

"Hey, how was I supposed to know she really _was_ an Amazon? Anyway, she should've been glad I was complimenting her. Way she reacted, it's no wonder she doesn't have a boyfriend."

"She does," remarked the second half of the Dynamic Duo, accompanied by the slightest hint of a laugh. "Did I mention he's dying to meet you?"

"Oh," gasped Speedy, the color fleeing his boyish face.

"Don't worry, he's a twig. I'm not saying you should mess with him, though; Donna's very protective."

"I'm never getting near her again. Not that I have to worry, considering the restrai…"

"Right," Robin suddenly burst out, springing to his feet. "I know exactly what happened to Cyborg."

The eyes on Speedy's thin mask bulged like a surfaced fish's. "Hold on," he stuttered incredulously, "you look at the floor for ten minutes…"

"Eight and a half."

"…ten minutes, and you tell me that you know where Cyborg is based on that?"

"Yeah. Want me to walk you though it?" the Boy Wonder asked evenly.

"Please do," replied the Crimson Archer mockingly.

Ignoring his companion's insufferable sarcasm, Robin extended a finger, indicating the foot-shaped crater he had been inspecting mere seconds before. "Something happened over here. Someone landed here with a tremendous amount of force."

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_Green let out a guttural war cry as he plummeted toward the form of Cyborg, who lay sprawled across the floor, momentarily dazed. The Titanium Titan drew a deep breath, storing it in his artificial lungs as he flung himself to the right, rolling away as the doppelganger's foot sank deeply into the earth where his head had been, easily crushing the concrete, leaving a fine pattern of cracks. _

_Cyborg sprung to his feet, charging toward the still crouching form of the olive copycat, his single remaining blue fist drawn far behind his back. Once he was in close enough quarters, the Titan allowed his arm to lash out, supported by the entire weight of his metallic frame._

_The blow sent his adversary reeling; the half-man's robotic neck hissed as it snapped back, the gears within audibly popping as they strained. Green's mechanical body followed, drifting rapidly toward a towering stack of massive metal crates, so tall it kissed the ceiling of the building. The whole of his limp figure clanged against the bottom box at once, causing a small tremor to agitate those piled atop it. As the dazed android tumbled to the floor, the topmost crates imitated him, plummeting down the five story drop and burying the unmoving half-robot beneath. _

_For a brief moment, time was silent, save for the pandemonium erupting elsewhere within the warehouse. The sand clogged within the waist of the hourglass, the pendulum halted in mid-swing, the wheels and gears groaned as they strained to roll forward. The dust steadily dissipated, the jumbled aluminum cases settling in their new, awkward alignment. There was a brief noise of ridged metal scraping metal. Again, the eerie, foreboding quiet invaded Cyborg's mind. His wavering human eye rested anxiously on the undisturbed pile. Agonizing seconds ticked by like hours. _

_Suddenly, as predicted, a mechanical green fist burst through one of the giant containers, tearing through the thick steel as easily as it would a scrap of paper. The jointed fingers grasped to the jagged hole, jerking a gaping tear along the side. Green calmly emerged from the opened crate, wiping the small specks of gravel from his chromium finish. Though his fleshy chest had somehow survived with little more than a frosting of dirt, his prosthetic portions had not left unscarred; his domed head was heavily scuffed, a deep dent dominated a good portion of the "skull", and one of the lenses of his binocular eyes was split in half by a hair-thin crack. _

_The beast remained casually idle for a moment, boring into the teen hero with his telescopic optical sensors. He seemed collected, unaffected by Cyborg's vicious assault. This abruptly changed as the human portion of the robot's face was tinged a dark red shade, his nostril flared, and the brilliant olive light that emanated from his armor intensified, becoming drastically more brilliant. His single green fist clenched shut, dull metal fingers digging into his metal palm; a small tremor passed through the entire limb, growing into a full earthquake, aggressively whipping the arm up and down. _

_"You!" the villain's voice snaked out, dripping with the venom of blind rage and fatal malice. "Nobody does that to me! You hear me, kid? Nobody!" _

_The criminal hissed as he flung himself forward fist-first, painting a bull's-eye between the do-gooder's natural and synthetic eyes. The said eyes were surprisingly steady, staring down the fist for the entirety of its approach. Cyborg gracefully shifted his tremendous bionic feet, shifting his stance slightly to the right. Though his adversary's fist shaved the metal plate on the left side of his head, producing a tiny shower of sparks, Cy avoided the majority of the blow, though the crate that stood behind him did not share his good fortune. The green machine's balled hand plowed directly through the container, leaving him momentarily vulnerable. _

_Cyborg did not waste the opportunity. _

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Speedy slowly nodded, scratching the back of his fuzzy orange scalp. "Okay," he coughed, a hint of dubiousness seasoning his voice, "I guess I can buy that."

The Boy Wonder ignored the archer, about-facing and storming in the opposite direction, the soles of his oversized black boots crunching the sprinkles of glass. The grim-faced detective stopped abruptly, causing Speedy, who had been close at his heels the entire way, to crash into his back. The archer muttered brusquely, massaging his swollen nose and clenching his shining teeth, which nearly resembled fangs. He drew in a deep breath, probably to yammer on with his complaints, but the air remained caught in his throat, and his mouth remained agape.

The walls to the Jump City warehouses were constructed of three feet of solid concrete and supported by a closely crisscrossing skeleton of titanium framework. It was meant to withstand the violently whipping winds of the hurricanes that sometimes raged through the area, as well as the frequent attacks by so-called super-villains and giant, rampaging monsters. Yet somehow, an exit had appeared in the wall, granting easy access to the cool evening wind, to the oil-stained asphalt of the eroded, unused roadways, which was now littered with gargantuan blocks of cement debris scattered by the formation of the hole.

"The fight escalated here," Robin noted aloud, his adept mind already formulating an intricate scenario. He used all of the skills that had been imparted unto him, snatching up every tiny piece of forensic evidence he discovered and giving it a place in the puzzle. It took him all of five seconds of speculation for him to know what had happened; there was no doubt in is brilliant, calculating mind, no question of his own abilities. It was not pride, nor conceit; he had been taught to always follow his initial instinct, that second guesses were wrong guesses. He had learned, through experience, that this fact was the honest truth.

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_Green skidded across the damp asphalt, gritting his teeth as the high-frequency screech of his scraping metal limbs vibrated his artificial eardrums. Cement meteorites peppered the area around him, some of the smaller segments landing dangerously close to his polished skull. A soft, annoyed growl escaped his iron lungs as he slid his calcium jaw into place, attempting to ignore the throbbing, almost thought numbing pain. His bionic eyes readjusted themselves, sweeping the area, seeking his enemy._

_The search did not take long to yield results; Green once more felt his jaw slip as a pulsing blue fist flew across the fleshy portion of his face. This time, his feet remained strongly rooted to the ground, his metallic neck moaning only slightly as it struggled to remain aligned with the rest of his cybernetic body. He reversed his backward momentum, throwing himself back forward, his own single remaining fist leading the way, and repaid his predecessor's favor in full. _

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"So what next?" Speedy asked with a mocked anticipation.

Robin shuddered for a moment, imagining the archer's thin neck between his hands. He sighed as he ran his gloved fingers through his spiked black hair; he had to remain on task. The white lenses on his tiny mask thinned, resting on a certain spot of the blacktop.

"What do you see?" Speedy asked, dropping any pretense of playfulness, becoming the hero he was expected to be.

"The street here," the Boy Wonder muttered, though whether it was to his companion or himself was a mystery. "It was melted by a concentrated force of extreme heat."

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_Cyborg cursed his luck as the form of his enemy became little more than a bright olive speck of light in the distance just over the water, soaring away on the rocket boosters concealed in his "boots". Cyborg mentally reminded himself to outfit his own feet with a set when this ordeal was over, though not even he knew how long it would be until then. He jogged over to the T-Car, following the soft glow it emitted, all the while marveling at how fast the crook was moving. _

_He glanced at the tracking device, furiously jamming down the "zoom out" button several times until a map of the entire city filled the little screen. Already, the flashing dot was zipping through the city at an alarming rate, sharply changing directions frequently. If Mas y Menos were to see this, they would undoubtedly begin voicing their envy in a rapid Spanish rant. _

_Seconds later, the car's roaring engine was fading into the night air, and was eventually completely silenced by the explosive brawl within the heavily damaged warehouse. _

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"He was headed back into the city," Robin stated, his voice unstressed, as is squinted eyes traced the tire marks left on one of the few dry patches of cement. "See? The crosses of the T's are pointed in the direction of that route."

"He put T's on the wheels?" the archer asked skeptically.

"He's Cyborg," was the casual reply as Robin removed his communicator from his still essentially empty utility belt, depressing the send button. "Beast Boy, any luck?"

"As much luck as Doctor Light," the whining reply came, fighting a slight buzzing static for dominance. "Maybe he knows Mister Miracle or something, 'cause he's just disappeared!"

"That's because he doesn't want to be found," the young hero speculated aloud, his mind slowly coming to a realization. "Beast Boy, he's in the sewers. See if you can find him! Speedy, you're with me."

"Where're we going?"

"Where Cy didn't want us to go…"

**Author's Notes: **Well, sorry again for another huge wait, but you can't rush art, you know? I rewrote the entire ending, just so you know. This was originally the final chapter. Okay, enough of that. Thanks again to all of my reviewers, including my new one, j. I'm glad you understand my objective in writing this. You're a cool guy, I can tell. Well, review if you want to. I'll update eventually regardless, but it would be nice to get some feedback.

**Next Time:** The _real_ surprise! What does Professor Chang want with the young man who was known as Vic Stone? Stay tuned!


	7. Ch 6: Past Sins

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own Teen Titans.

**Author's Note**: I'm back, and with the final chapter of this particular story. Sorry it took so long, but I've been under a lot of stress with other tasks, so I haven't had much time to just sit and write. I finally worked out the kinks, so here you are.

Ch. 6: Past Sins 

Cyborg's glazed human eye stared blankly ahead, looking out into the distance, and yet, somehow, avoiding it, looking somewhere far beyond it. Wires dangled out of the shattered, useless cybernetic eye on the left side of his skull. His only remaining hand, the left one, clutched the steering wheel in a vice-grip so tight that it threatened to crush it like an aluminum can, and he jerked it so violently as he navigated the cavernous concrete tunnels of the Jump City sewer system that it threatened to snap off. The walls were barely a blur to his contemplating eye, and the columns of water gushed well past the tinted windows; his heavy metallic foot only drove the pedal further to the floor.

Life, awareness suddenly crept into those eyes, and they inched toward the dashboard, glancing at the tracking device that was now magnetically attached to it. Just as he clearly remembered, the blip was at the same familiar coordinates it had been resting at for some time.

Cyborg took a moment to reflect on that: "some time". How long had it been since he left his comrades to fend for themselves at the warehouse? Minutes? No, he knew it had been longer than just minutes. Yet it didn't feel as though an hour had yet passed. The gears in his electronic brain groaned from the strain of the situation, and he tried to shale the thoughts, the guilt, from his head.

Yet he did have to admit one thing to himself. "Star's right," sighed, staring electronic eye to eye with the hideous, unwelcome truth. "I'm turnin' into a regular Robin."

It wasn't as if he hadn't been this determined, this obsessed before; the memory of Brother Blood was still fresh, the wounds still open. Yet this time, he had done something that not even Robin had done in his moments of blindness: he had truly cut his teammates loose, abandoned them. Their necks had been resting in the guillotine, and he had left them there, knowing very well that their chances of survival without him were quite slim.

Why? Why had he done the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the unacceptable? Had these newcomers come too soon after Brother Blood? Were they the salt that pored into the bleeding gashes left in the wake of Blood's attack?

Was he having a nervous breakdown?

Cyborg's blip was now nearly touching his quarry's, and he released the gas, slamming his foot down on the brakes. The tires coughed up foul-smelling smoke as they desperately tried to stay together. It took a short moment, as well as a few yards, for the T-Car to finally come to a halt, the neon-blue metal still cooling even as Cyborg's incredibly large form emerged. His organic eye narrowed, revenge once more dominating all other thoughts, the desire ten times greater with the new location: Silas Stone's home.

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Cyborg's suspicions and fears were confirmed immediately after he ascended from the underground: the door leading into his father's abode had been wrenched free of its hinges, leaving only splintered wood and scattered screws behind. Drawing short, nervous breaths, the Titan passed through the unguarded doorway. The house was poorly lit, and without the night vision feature of his cyber-optics, he was nearly blind. Fortunately, the light in the nearby "study" emitted a soft glow, acting as his lighthouse, and he drifted toward it.

The almost perfect condition of the room, save or the usual clutter upon his father's desk, surprised Cyborg, and he released his trapped breath, relieved to see his father seated behind it, just as he had found him last.

"Run," Silas urged before his son had the chance to inhale again. "Go now, while you still have the chance!"

The warning came too late, however, for before the hero was even able to protest the command, to reassure his panicked father, a steel chord was constricting him, pinning his left arm to his hip. He tried to free himself, but it was a futile battle, as the strange binding began to somehow feed off of his power cell, weakening him each time he struggled, and wrapping tighter with each drink. Realizing the momentary hopelessness of his dilemma, Cyborg fell to one knee, panting, trying to alleviate the imagined nausea enough to come up with a decent plan.

The sound of somebody clapping two very organic hands, its frequency amplified by the churning in his stomach, was the first sound Cyborg was able to discern from the ring in his ear. Then came a voice, raspy with age, and carrying a heavy Oriental accent.

"Well, look who it is. And you said he wouldn't come, Silas. No, he's too smart, right? Well, I hope you're disappointed."

As his blind spots faded, Cyborg made sure to glare the sharpest daggers, all dripping poison, straight through Professor Chang's thick black goggles, into the beady eyes that hid beneath.

"He's got guts coming here, I'll give him that," another familiar voice chimed in, one that nearly tempted Cy to once again struggle against his bonds, despite the grueling agony that coursed through every wire. "This Tinman may not have brains, but he's sure got some heart in there."

"For God's sake, Chang, leave him alone," cried Silas. "He's done nothing at all to you."

"Hold your tongue, Stone!" Chang spat through his crooked, yellow teeth, never taking his attention from the teen superhero. "You know very well that this isn't about him at all."

"Then what is it about?" Cyborg stammered, gritting his teeth against the pain and fatigue. "What do you want with me?"

Chang cackled gleefully, taking labored gasps at necessary intervals, burying his face in his withered, bony hands and nearly doubling over as the tremors of his own laughter rattled his brittle bones.

"What's wrong, old man?" Cyborg pressed, stumbling over each syllable. "Having a heart attack?"

Chang, neither amused nor insulted by the comment, simply offered a smirk that seemed awkward on such a shriveled countenance. "Why, my boy," the Professor cooed in a soothing, grandfatherly tone, "didn't your father ever tell you? Oh dear Silas, you really must talk with your son more often."

Silas Stone grimaced at that scalding hot insult, as if the professor had plunged his grimy, thin claws into his chest, gripping his heart and twisting relentlessly. Yet said nothing; he simply sat, a passive, almost comatose expression in his wizened gray eyes. His arms hung limp with fatigue, dangling just beneath the small desk.

"Cat got your tongue?" Chang asked, radiating malice that infected Silas' soul, pushing his shoulders further down, forcing his head to bow.

"Just leave him out of it," the inventor pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, a combination of the guilt that stained his conscience and the recently broken silence of three years too many of hermetic solitude.

"Not a chance," Professor Chang hissed, his childish humor evaporating. "After all, I've lost too much over this bouncing baby brat of yours."

"So this is about the Titans kicking your butt, eh old timer?" Cyborg rasped as he continued to struggle.

"My boy," the professor chuckled, the childish grin creeping back into his thin, cracked lips, "if this was about the Titans, don't you think they would all be here? Of course, your blasted father had to drag them into it…"

"My God, Chang," Silas shot, his weak voice suddenly empowered, "you wanted me to betray my son! Did you expect me to just hand him over to you?"

"Well yes, that was the plan," Chang replied, his stained teeth clenched together in a drooping scowl. "I thought you were an intelligent man, my old friend. I thought you'd realize that your brat was all that you had left to lose. I guess I was as much of a fool as you are."

"A lot of good calling the Titans did anyway," Stone grumbled, retreating back within himself.

"Did you say 'old friend'?" Cyborg asked, his voice still weakening with each breath he took, each inch he shifted. "How do you two know each other so well?"

"Why don't you answer the boy, Dr. Stone?" Chang asked, chuckling like the madman he was. "He is entitled to know why he'll be leaving us."

Silas Stone exhaled heavily, removing his thick spectacles to rub the guilt, the pain, out of his tired, bloodshot, gray eyes. As he slowly, tremblingly replace them, letting them rest farther down upon his laboring nose, he ran a rough hand through the thinning white hair atop his dangling head, then through the stubble of fuzz that sprouted from his powerful chin. He sighed again, a quivering sound that seemed to linger in the supercharged air, like a story long untold, a secret too long kept that longed to roam free from the cage that imprisoned it, a cage it often thrashed at, yet never seemed to break. Finally, the man aged beyond his years began his tale.

"Well, son, it was several years ago," he explained, pausing as his sharp memory whisked him away to that time that seemed so long ago. "Professor Chang was working alongside me in STAR Labs. Don't try to verify it, though; any evidence of his employment has long since been terminated. Anyway, he worked in a different department, the robotics, so I really didn't know him that well; I focused on my own projects, and I left him to his business. I did hear whispers, though, that he was making money on the side, pushing off some equipment and company secrets to shady characters. I tried not to think about it too much. I just focused on my research. It wasn't my business. Then the accident took place."

The elder Stone immediately halted, his next sentence screeching to a stanstill in his throat, building into a strangling lump. He coughed it away, closing his eyes to hide the moisture building in their wise, gray recesses. With some hesitation, and an impatient urging from Professor Chang, he continued.

"After that, I didn't know what to do. STAR Labs demanded that I take responsibility for the accident and reimburse them. Even though they were the ones who rushed me to present the blasted untested thing, I paid them to avoid a big court fiasco. Of course, it wasn't really enough, so they took the rest out of my final paycheck and called it even. I was jobless, my wife was dead, and I had a son in the hospital without a penny in my pocket and no time on my hands. You were going to die, Vic. I couldn't let that happen. So…"

"He came to me," Chang chimed in, completing the sentence Stone had found too bitter to finish himself. "I was only glad to help him out. After all, I'm just an old softy."

"You're an old somethin', alright," grunted Cyborg, despite the electrocuting pain of the wire and the weight of the dark revelation. Still, he drew some satisfaction from the fact that his comment caused Chang's half-robot underling to stifle a giggle. Chang was not so pleased with the joke.

"I couldn't just give him the stuff; it was high class, experimental, military grade," Chang said, hiding his rage with the grace of a thespian. "'Lotta cha-ching, you know? And like he said, he had absolutely nothing. So I made him a deal; I'd give him the stuff, and he'd pay me back bit by bit as he earned money. Only one problem: he didn't deliver."

"Just give me more time," Silas pleaded, his face half buried in his hands. "I've had difficulty getting work; the scientific community considers me a liability, and what odd jobs I can get only bring in enough cash to pay the bills. I know I can sell this new idea, but I need…"

"I've given you three years," roared Chang, with the ferocity of a spirit much younger than his own. "You have no more chances. This is why I like working with the bad boys, with Slade and HIVE; I get a profit. I'm taking my technology back, Stone, and what happens to your boy is a matter beneath my con…"

Suddenly, Chang's vision became fuzzy; colors melted away, blended, faded into nothingness. The sound of his own, voice became a distant whisper to his ears, and his limbs did not seem to want to respond to his commands, which were beginning to grow faint, less frequent. Finally, his legs liquefied, and he collapsed under the weight of his bulging bodysuit, striking the carpet with a muffled thud.

Silas Stone's trembling hand released the needle, and it joined Chang's sleeping form on the floor. For a moment, he himself felt disoriented, the burst of adrenaline fleeing his aching body. In one second, the stunned Green cyborg that served the Professor was upon him, and with one swipe of the beast's single remaining robotic arm, Silas was painfully hurled across the room, sailing back over his disorganized desk and striking the ancient bookshelf behind it. There was a sickening snap, and with limbs that moved like tattered rags, the unmoving doctor slid to the floor, followed by a shower of books, and he remained still, silent there, looking quite dead.

In that moment, Cyborg's human eye, gray, he realized for the first time, just like his father's, opened wide, in shock, in horror, in unmasked fear. It didn't matter now to Cyborg that his father had turned him into some sideshow freak, that he had, however reluctantly, conspired to destroy him, that he had let Mom die. In that single, horrific moment, one that overshadowed even the tragic accident three years ago, Silas Stone had tried to help his son, just as he had tried to do three years prior when he made a deal with Satan and threw away his own life, his success and reputation. Cyborg could think of only one fitting thing to say.

"_No!_"

Though agonizing pain continued to saw through his electronic insides, Cyborg struggled against the leech that was drinking at his very essence, and though his battery had been severely drained, a small tear appeared in the metallic binding. It was invisible at first, nearly microscopic, but gradually it grew. Finally, after grueling seconds, the cursed vampire snapped, fluttering to the ground like a harmless feather. Despite his weakened state, the one armed Titanium Titan wasted no time in charging toward the maniacal machine.

Unfortunately, in the passion of the moment, Cyborg, slightly delirious from the ordeal, let a barely audible war cry escape his lips, despite his efforts to mute it. In one fluid motion, Green spun around, extending sis bulky synthetic arm. Cy, already too close, only managed to slow his advance to a clumsy stumble. The armor of Cyborg's broad, durable chest shattered easily, and the fiend's hand plowed through layers of circuitry, peeling away at the electronics that gave the Titan life, and finally bursting through his back. Cyborg shuddered, imagining the uncomfortable coolness of the doppelganger's unfeeling fist in what would have been his flesh.

"Face it, kid," hissed the villain, leaning close to his counterpart's organic ear. "You're too weak to beat me. That puny little double-A of yours is probably dry."

"I got enough juice left for one last attack," Victor Stone retorted, "and you just walked right into it!"

Before the hero had even completed the statement, the blue light of his armor brightened, nearly scorching the binocular eyes of his opponent, who attempted to draw back, but was defeated by Cy's massive hand, which all but swallowed his thinner wrist. A single trip of neon blue danced up Green's arm, then another, and another, this one following much faster. Soon, the searing bolts overtook the evil cyborg's arm, snaking to his metallic giraffe-like neck, and scratching at the edges of the metallic dome that formed his skull. An inhuman wail exploded from seep within the core of his being, shaking the very foundation of the Stone house. His lens-like eyes extended to their extremities with a mechanical whine and simply popped, sending glass and a twisted mesh of plastic and titanium sprinkling to the ground. The lifeless shell, stunned but not permanently killed, toppled over like a neglected action figure, dragging with it the similarly still form of the boy who had been Victor Stone and grown up into the world famous Teen Titan known as Cyborg. The teen hero's bright blue glow had leaked out of his hollow frame, and his dead organic eye drifted closed as his final systems crashed.

Cyborg knew no more.

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It took some time for Cyborg's human eye to finally flutter open, and when then eyelid finally slid up, the half-robot's vision was immediately assaulted by pure, unbroken white. His first thought was that he must be in Heaven, or Nirvana, or whatever the final destination was. Within seconds, these thoughts were pushed back by more logical, computerized ones as his internal CPU slowly hummed to life; it took it only seconds to deduce that he was, in fact, still alive, and it dutifully relayed the message to the tissue half of his brain.

"So if I'm not dead," the Titan pondered aloud, hardly realizing he was doing it, "if I'm not dead, where the heck am I?"

"STAR Labs," a monotone, almost tired voice sighed from his left. "The medical bay, to be exact. Well, the robot medical bay."

He slowly raised himself with both hands, feeling the power of his rejuvenated power cell coursing through every wire in his system. He smiled as he regarded the speaker with, he noted, both flesh and glass eyes; it was Raven, a thin but sincere smile on her lips as she glanced up at him from her inches thick novel, her large, violet eyes tired, yet somehow warm, understanding, as oppose to their usual frigidness.

"Hey, Rae," he greeted, a much wider smile spreading across a good portion of his freshly energized face. "So, how long you been here?"

"A while," she replied, her voice carrying little emphasis, but sounding kind at the same time. "You've been out for three days. You needed some extensive repairs. Since I was wounded, I've been officially off duty. I thought you could use some company, and I had nothing better to do, so I came here. Sorry I'm the only one you're waking up to, but everyone else went chasing Red X."

"You got hurt?" he asked, ignoring her comment about the others.

"Yeah. When you went AWOL," she said, a touch of iciness temporarily flowing out of her voice.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that," he said, and meant from the bottom of his ticking tin heart. "I was a pretty big jerk to you, too."

"Yeah," she replied, this time in her usual drone, "but don't feel too bad. Beast Boy's a jerk all the time, and he isn't dead yet."

Cyborg had a good mental snicker at that one, but stopped himself for Raven's sake; he knew she didn't "do" funny, and would likely be embarrassed if she realized she had inadvertently made a joke. Instead, he asked, "So how'd I get here?"

"Robin and Speedy chased you down to your dad's house. You were a real mess. They loaded you and your dad back into the T-Car, took him to the hospital, and brought you here."

"Oh yeah," Cy exclaimed, the memories of what felt like the previous night rushing back to him. "Dad was injured. Is he all right? Where is he?"

To the teen hero's horror, Raven's book slowly creaked shut, the ancient pages coughing out a thin layer of dust, and her eyes climbed to meet his. What he saw in those deep eyes frightened him, overwhelmed him, infected him; Raven's eyes, normally blank, emotionless slates, reflected a speck of concern.

"Cyborg," she said, the comforting tone of her voice only serving to further unnerve the person she was addressing, "understand that he was severely injured. That blow damaged his spine. I tried to heal it the best I could, but the wound had been there for too long by the time I got to it..."

"Raven, what happened? Where is my father?"

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The wheels silently glided smoothly across the waxed tile floor, neither making a sound nor jerking at all. Abruptly, he stopped the forward motion, this time rotating them in reverse, finding the movement equally graceful. He tested both a few more times, changing between them as quickly as he could, practicing his turns, both in motion and idle. He found every possible scenario pleasantly simple to navigate.

Doctor Silas Stone broke into a grin. This wheelchair business was a piece of cake, and would only get easier with time.

"Hey, old man," a soft, timid, yet vaguely familiar voice came, causing Stone's grin to widen.

"Well, come in son," he said courteously, swinging the wheelchair 180 degrees and looking up to meet his towering boy's gaze. "Nice to see you finally woke up."

"Nice to see you're still alive," Cyborg replied, his voice on the verge of sobs, carrying a burden heavier than his father had been. "Dad… I'm sorry."

"Why?" Silas inquired, the smile still touching his lips. "'Cause I'm still alive? Vic, don't mourn me. I think I've mourned myself enough for one lifetime."

"But… you're legs…" the younger Stone stammered, unable to comprehend his father's words.

"Hey, these don't matter," Silas reassured his son, slapping his numb limbs. "What matters is what's ticking in my chest and what's turning in my head. I don't need my legs to live. Got that? Heck, I'm walking taller now than I have in the past three years. In my life, maybe."

Cyborg tried to protest, tried to blame himself for his father's predicament, but the argument crumbled, and the son just exhaled a sigh of relief. There was no predicament, no dilemma. Though he had been crippled, Silas Stone, the man who Cy had hated with the deepest fiery passion for a reason he could not remember, was smiling. And though the older man was a mile below him, Victor Stone, Cyborg, his son, was looking up at him. The boy could think of only one appropriate thing to say.

"Thanks, Dad. For everything I never thanked you for."

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**_"I was not expecting the large one to be with her…_**

_**"…This could complicate matters…**_

_**"…How strange a lady Fate sometimes is…**_

_**"…Still, the mission will proceed as planned…**_

_**"…The girl conceived of tainted blood and born in sacred shrine will free you… **_

_**"…And then, my master…**_

_**"…the Antithesis of all things pure shall be unleashed!" **_

_End._

**Author's Note:** That is just one person speaking at the end. I broke up the paragraphs because it looks cooler. It's a nice little segue into my next planned fic (if I ever get to it). Anyone who is familiar with the Titans' comic past should be able to easily see what's coming, but I assure you, my version will be pretty different.

And thus, I leave you. I am satisfied with this last chapter, and I hope all seven of my fans will be, too. Just drop a review, and I'll be even happier, whether you liked it or not. I was going to have an extra scene with the character Sarah Simms, but I'll give you three guesses as to why I cut it.

To all of my reviewers, I bid you a fond, and hopefully not permanent, farewell.


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